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About Eugene weekly. (Eugene, Oregon) 1993-current | View Entire Issue (March 10, 2011)
letters TO THE EDITOR ABOUT MARK HARRIS BROUGHT TO LIFE As a faculty member of LCC since 1995, I would like to say a few words about a highly respected colleague, Mark Harris (see letters, 3/3). During my early years, I taught health in Lane’s High School program, serving an at-risk teen population. I was fortu- nate to have Mark as a guest presenter on substance abuse prevention, which always had a deep impact on all of us. Follow- ing his presentations, many students had openly expressed a need for support and counseling regarding drug and alcohol issues. I remember one in particular who could not wait another day and asked me to walk him to Mark’s offi ce. Mark has an extraordinary ability to be powerful, com- passionate and patient. Over the years, I have served on a few committees and collegewide activi- ties with Mark and have consulted him at times for my continuing professional de- velopment. He is very honest, generous, kind and creative. At times when I have found myself to be less skillful or less experienced in certain matters, Mark has always communicated his expertise and knowledge in the most humble and diplo- matic manner. Most importantly, on issues of racism, freedom and separateness, I have benefi ted greatly from Mark’s contributions in Eugene Weekly and The Community College Moment. His words have turned my mind and heart in many directions and I know many other people who strongly agree with me. I look forward to reading many more articles by Mark Harris. Amy Gaudia Eugene Last Saturday night a woman who is dead shared with me her love for her par- ents, her intense need that her non-violent presence in a war zone would make some impact and her growing anger at the pain and devastation about which she could do nothing. The woman who is dead was brought to vivid life by actor Nicole Tro- baugh, who was Rachel Corrie in Lord Leebrick Theater’s production of My Name is Rachel Corrie (which continues through March 12). This play should be seen for Nicole Trobaugh’s stunning performance; for Ra- chel Corrie’s own words, used throughout the play; and for the insight this evening of theater gives us into why people risk their lives, because they “can do no other.” Dina Wills Eugene living out BIKE PLAN LACKING The Fern Ridge bike path was construct- ed around 1970. The underpasses below Chambers, Garfi eld, Acorn Park, W. 11th, Bertelsen, and Danebo are helpful in provid- ing safe, effi cient bike transportation to and from West Eugene and downtown. Cross- ings are still needed at Polk and City View. After 40 years, it’s time for a few more! These are dangerous crossings, where riders must zigzag across busy streets to continue on the bike trail. I suggest diagonal over- passes at these two locations, spanning both the creek and the roads. At present, cars have the right-of-way at these and other at-grade street cross- ings (e.g., Bailey Hill and Oak Patch). The streets are posted with yellow signs warn- ing motorists of a pedestrian crossing, and bicyclists are warned to yield to cars. I suggest a different system of street post- ing: Place yellow cones in the middle of the streets at bike path crossings with a sign that reads something like: “State Law: Must stop for pedestrians and bi- cycles.” (This is similar language to what appears on cones in the San Francisco Bay Area where the bike trail along the BART tracks crosses city streets in the East Bay.) The Fern Ridge path provides reason- ably good transportation from west Eu- gene east to Jefferson Street. After that, bicyclists are essentially on their own. Improved safety is need for bikes travers- ing the downtown area. One way to pro- BY SALLY SHEKLOW Lights Out Technology leads to grave robbing M y domestic partner isn’t cheating, but she is, shall we say, involved. A tempting opportunity arose and she took it. She got an iPhone. I’m jealous. It’s with her constantly, she can’t keep her hands off of it, and she consults it for things she used to ask of me — Where did we get that great guacamole? When’s the fi rst night of Passover? What’s a four-letter word for single? The other day my car‘s brake lights wouldn’t turn off. Wifey consulted her iPhone. In an instant she was reading posts from people with the same problem. A dime-sized blue stopper keeps the brake pedal mechanism from pressing the brake light switch. When that stopper falls out, the lights stay on. Quoth the iPhone. I searched around and whaddaya know, a blue rubber tiddly-wink lay broken on the fl oormat. The iPhone was right. Replace this little gizmo and I’d be set. Wifey took iPhone into the house, the two of them having completed their contribution. The woman at the dealership counter printed out a schematic showing the part. She couldn’t get it 4 MARCH 10, 2011 vide safer passage for bikes is to separate bikes from cars with a line of parked cars approximately 8 to 12 feet from the curb, with a bike lane along the curb where cars currently park. If extra space is needed for bikes, a street like 10th or 12th could be made into a one-way street. A north-south bike path, with overpass- es or underpasses, is needed in the vicinity of the streets named after Presidents (i.e., between Lincoln and Polk). Bicycles going north or south in this area must cross 6th, 7th, and 11th avenues — streets with ex- tremely heavy traffi c. There are stoplights at Polk and Monroe, but the wait times at EUGENE WEEKLY until Tuesday. My car battery would be dead by Tuesday. “Try the wrecking yard,” Partswoman suggested. I drove to B&R Auto Wrecking and parked, brake lights aglow. A burly clerk looked at my schematic and gave me a list of cars of my year, make, a n d model. He also handed me a neon-green safety vest, required out on the lot (Ooh la la!). Rack after rack of palletted engines lined a gravel path to the massive car cemetery, grave robbing encouraged. I tromped through acres of mangled car carcasses, already picked clean of steering wheels, seats, dashboards, whatever was needed. Finally I found my donor car. I wedged past a crumpled fender and pulled open the door. This wreck, like all the others, was on risers, allowing easy access. Sure enough, up behind the dash was a little blue stopper. Just like iPhone said. I pressed the brake pedal to open the gap, pulled the part, and trotted back to the offi ce. I showed Burlyman my fi nd. “No charge,” he said, hanging my green vest back on the hook (sigh). I thanked him and returned to my car, its brake lights still shining. To install the replacement part I had to sit on the asphalt and arch backwards over the threshold to reach into the magic spot. I was on my back, half of me sticking out, while I pressed the pedal, aimed my fl ashlight and maneuvered the part into place. Burlyman and his co-worker were probably enjoying the show on their security cameras, but too bad. I scooched in further and wrangled that rubber jobbie until at last . . . YESSS! I slithered out, straightened my back, and dusted off my butt. Behind my car a magnifi cent sight — brake lights off. Cue Rocky theme, shoot fi sts into air, do end zone dance. I drove home, parked, and took one more look — yep, lights off. I gave my customary call, “Hi honey, I’m homo!” “Any luck?” Wifey asked, iPhone in hand. I grinned, just a tad smug. Wifey embraced me and said she was impressed and proud. There’s no app for that. Award-winning writer Sally Sheklow has been tackling tough problems in Eugene since 1972. 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